


Of Fans and Flirts

by Iselmyr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 19:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12711144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iselmyr/pseuds/Iselmyr
Summary: Josephine dropped her fan enough to smile at him over it. “I just wished some fresh air, and to be away from the press of people for a moment. Even as strong a man as you is hardly a press all by himself, so I am sure my recovery will not be harmed by my remaining in your company whilst I take the air.”





	Of Fans and Flirts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iodhadh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iodhadh/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy! Your prompts were all great!

Josephine fluttered her fan modestly and detached herself from conversation with a minor Comte. He was much too old—but really the problem was that he was a terrible bore. Was it too much to ask for a marriage prospect with a modicrum of wit to his name?

She drifted out onto one of the balconies with a sigh. The ballroom was bright and loud and hot, and ordinarily she would revel in it, but right now she just wanted a moment of peace and fresh air to build her spirits back up before she entered the fray again. She was hardly the only daughter of a lesser family looking to make an advantageous marriage here tonight, after all. She had hoped to find someone she could come to be fond of as well as someone that could save her family’s fortunes, but with every boring Comte and cruel Baron and swaggering Marquis her hopes flagged a little more.

A throat cleared from the shadows at the side of the balcony and she jumped, covering her mouth with her fan. 

“I beg your pardon,” a rich voice said, and a young man stepped into the light.

“Oh,” Josephine said, “No, I must beg yours! I did not realize someone was already on this balcony.”

The young man bowed to her with a faint creak of armor from beneath his rich tunic. A soldier, perhaps? “I could hardly mind the company of such a lovely flower of the court, but I assume you wished to be alone? I’m afraid all of the balconies are occupied with my fellows on watch.”

Josephine dropped her fan enough to smile at him over it. “I just wished some fresh air, and to be away from the press of people for a moment. Even as strong a man as you is hardly a press all by himself, so I am sure my recovery will not be harmed by my remaining in your company whilst I take the air.”

He laughed, seeming startled at himself. “I shall endeavor to make myself inconspicuous, if you prefer, my lady.”

Josephine flicked her fan. “No, I need not delude myself as to my lack of company—and certainly I do not wish to, when the company is so charming! Tell me, does your employment always keep you out of the party itself?”

He smiled. “Frequently. But then, I am not quite the sort that would be invited to such an occasion as this, were I not attending in the course of my employment. I am only a hired sword.”

“I do not think,” Josephine said before she could stop herself, “that you are _only_ anything, signor.” She covered her mouth with her fan, cursing her inability to leash her tongue. The young man laughed, his eyes like stars, and she decided with a little sigh that if she was going to be brash and unwise, she may as well make the most of it. He was certainly the best conversational partner she had encountered all night, and she had no wish to turn from his sparkling eyes back to the swirl of gentry. She held out a hand, on a brazen impulse, since there was no one there to perform a proper introduction, or witness the lack of one. “I am Lady Josephine Montilyet, of Antiva. And you are?”

His smile was brilliant, though quickly hidden as he took her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Her breath caught at the heat of his skin, and she fluttered her fan despite herself. He straightened, still smiling at her. “Cremisius Aclassi, Lady Montilyet. From Tevinter.”

“Oh, please do not call me Lady Montilyet, or I shall think my mother is just behind my shoulder.” Josephine smiled back with a coy flick of her fan that showed it for a moment, but anyone as clever as this Cremisius seemed should be able to catch it, and to see it in her eyes.

“If you insist, then, it shall have to be Lady Josephine, though I cannot imagine any other pearl may adorn these halls for whom I could mistake you.” He had nothing to hide his smirk, nor any need to, and Josephine laughed in true delight. It was ever so much more fun to trade flirts with someone who seemed to mean them, and to whom she could return them with full honesty.

“You say that, but you haven’t met my little sister,” she cautioned, eyes dancing. “Yvette is ever so much more of a character than I, and I am sure to many I pale into insignificance in the face of her charms.”

“I think, Lady Josephine, that you are exactly as much of a character yourself as any situation could require, and any that exceeded you must therefore be a surfeit. I am sure, of course, that your sister is perfectly charming, but you are not _only_ charming.” He raised an eyebrow at her, as if in challenge.

Josephine thrilled to the invitation. This was the best of the Game, the verbal dance, the passes that harmed no one but could do anything. The power of words, of a golden tongue and a golden pen. “It is kind of you to speak to strongly of my character on so short an acquaintance, signor. I must be lucky as well as charming, to happen upon a balcony with such a man on it to converse with.”

“I think, rather, that the luck must be mine, to be so happened upon,” he countered. “I have been unaccountably lucky before, in many ways, but you are a jewel among them.”

“So fine as that? I might think you fond of me already, Monsieur Aclassi.” She hid her smile behind her fan again.

“And how could a simple man such as I fail to fall before your impeccable charms, my lady? I am merely at your mercies.”

“Again, simple, mere! You are simple no more than you are _only_ , Monsieur Aclassi. I think rather that you are an unexpected ornament to this balcony, and that I shall be glad to have met you.” She was aware then, suddenly, of a change in the music behind her, and snapped her fan shut in what would have been a curse if her self-control was less. “I must beg your pardon, signor, but I have promised this next dance.”

He bowed to her, elegantly, and she let herself admire the line of his neck as he did. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, Lady Josephine.”

“And you yours, Monsieur Aclassi.”

“Not half so much without your presence, but I shall persevere.”

She wished she could remain and flirt longer—but she would be standing up a Marquis, and her family could not withstand that slight. With a last flash of a smile at the soldier, she hurried back into the ballroom—with a carefully measured step that would not look like anything so undignified as a hurry—to find her partner for the dance.


End file.
